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Castiel is everywhere and nowhere all at once. He blends into the space like salt dissolving on the tongue. There is nothing to distinguish him nor anything else that resides in the Empty. He’s made whole to only be broken into pieces again. So deep into his nightmares that he can’t wake up. Breathing in feels like drowning in tar and swallowing does nothing to get rid of the taste.
A hand dips slowly into the darkness, tearing into existence with a blinding light, and the Empty writhes as it awakens to this new disturbance. In all of the years since its creation, it has never been awakened so many times.
The light spreads and forms into the figure of a young man. It would be blinding to anything else but even his Light can’t touch an end to the vastness that is the Empty. Fingers from this Light spread, its arms raised, and the Empty screams in a language not spoken by any human.
“Relax,'' says a voice and the sound is everywhere, echoing and booming loud. The Empty knows this is not God. Not Chuck, but something else entirely. “I am here for one,” the voice says and after a beat adds, “for now.”
The empty bubbles with anger and tries to reach out, forming dripping tentacles of black ooze that stretch to the Light so it can toss the intruder away, so the Empty can go back to sleep, to peace. As soon as the Empty gets close the Light pushes back with an invisible force so strong the Empty thinks it feels what humans call pain. The Empty knows this being is holding back so much of its power, but the Empty will do its best to keep from being disturbed, and to keep what is rightfully theirs.
Having been occupied so heavily on said intruder the Empty misses what the Light is doing. Particles, atoms, matter, and grace swirl into the frame from the blackness like shooting stars moving through space. They shift and bob together at the feet of the Light, sticking to each other, stretching, and forming into a male body. Wings grow and span out from his back, moving like pollen in a stream along the Empty’s floor.
Calcium is made into bone, the bone attaches to muscle, muscle reaches out to the tendons and the tendons attach to flesh. Everything is put back together, down from the etchings of symbols carved into his ribs to the Enochian tattoo on his side.
With one flick of a finger, clothing manifests onto the new body, and as a tan trenchcoat settles the Empty sighs out heavily.
“This one Angel has been a thorn in everyone’s side since he was brought into existence,” the Empty echos.
“He deserves this,” the Light answers, his voice shaking the ooze of the Empty to slink farther away.
“You were not going to interfere anymore if I recall correctly, so why?” The Empty demands and thinks it can see the Light lift his head to answer.
“Because he is my father, and he deserves to live happily.” The Light then tilts his head back down and says, “ It’s time to wake up, Castiel.”
Castiel is gone from the Empty with a snap of Jack’s fingers. “Rest now,” Jack tells the Empty and as his Light fades away the Empty settles back into its quiet and eternal slumber once more, deciding this is best, the Empty does not want to be disturbed anymore.
_~_~_~
Wake up, Castiel
The Angel wakes slowly.
Birds are singing from the canopies of the trees above him and he can feel the grass tickling under his hands. The birds are not the screams of loved ones, nor are the grass sharp blades, and his face is clean from blood. The wind plays a tune as it rustles leaves and the cool pressure sends a shiver over his exposed skin.
When Castiel opens his eyes and has to blink them into focus, having been in the dark for so long. Through the shelter of the trees, he can see a blue sky speckled with whips of white, too beautiful to be anything from within the Empty so he must not be there any longer.
One step at a time then. Castiel twitches his fingers and finds they work fine. He moves onto his muscles, moving an arm above him and reaching up to the sky. He grasps at nothing and lowers his hand back to the ground. After a moment he shifts and moves onto his side, using his elbow for support as he sits up.
Pain nor dizziness comes to him as he takes in his surroundings further. He seems to be in the woods, though where he is not certain quite yet. He reaches out through his senses and notices a doe drinking at a creek nearby. Further from her and through the break of the woods is a town, where he can feel the souls of many move about their day.
His grace glows brightly in his chest, a blue force that pumps healthily through his veins and when he moves his attention inward he can feel the familiar itch of wings at his back. They are no longer broken, no longer scarred. He glances down and his shadow grows wings as he tests them, the feathers fanning out as he stretches. Remembering how to use them comes back easily, you don’t forget something that’s been a part of you for more than ten thousand years.
After a powerful push, he is up and standing on his feet, even a few yards from where he was in the grass. He is on Earth, that much he knows for sure. There is no soft glow of Heaven’s skies here, and far too many bugs as he waves a hand to flick one away from his face.
Looking back up into the blue sky he smiles softly, and the movement of the muscles feels so foreign, it’s been a very long time since he was even remotely happy.
His vocal cords come to life as he speaks his first words and they crack with disuse. ”Thank you, Jack,” he prays and pauses to see if there would be a response from his son but there is none. That’s okay though, he’s got many things to fix up there in Heaven, and maybe he will help one day but there is a tugging in his chest that needs to be satisfied first.
Spreading his wings again Castiel knows exactly where to go, and this place is so easy for him to find.
It’s home.
_~_~_~
At the entrance of the bunker door, Sam shuts it with a heavy sigh. He steps out onto the well-tracked path and jabs his hands into his jacket pockets, eyes downcast and brows furrowed in deep thought. The Impala sits patiently where Dean had left her, exterior fresh with wax and she shines in the sunlight. It’s the third time she’s been washed and waxed this week, and Sam wonders how the paint isn't dissolving off yet.
One perk to the depressive waxing sessions Dean has is that she reflects everything. Sam is at the driver's side door and bends over slightly to check his hair. He’s smoothing out a stray lock when the thin hairs on the back of his neck start to stand on end. He pauses to focus on his surroundings, making sure to not be obvious about it, and hears the crunch of the road under shoes just behind him. Upon seeing the figure reflecting in the side of the car he quickly turns on his heels to face the possible threat, hand snapping behind him to grip the handle of a knife he always has in his back pocket.
Old habits die hard.
“Cas?!” Sam asks in surprise when his eyes land on that trademark trench coat and blue eyes. They’re a lighting strike of blue, and he looks refreshed, alive, and very much not in the Empty.
“Sam,” Castiel says in return and it’s in that same deep voice Sam grew to know so well over the years. Sam shakes his head slowly, unbelieving, and his instincts scream for caution. Castiel is not new when it comes to the protocol of coming back from the dead. He dips his hand into the inner pocket of his coat and Sam lifts a hand in defense. Slowing his movement Castiel grips onto the cool handle of an Angel Blade and brings it out.
Holding out his other hand he drags the sharp edge across his opened palm just enough to draw some blood. Castiel winces but pain is no stranger. He turns his hand to show Sam the cut, and as soon as he looks up there’s a splash of water on his face. He purses his lips, the holy water dripping off his chin. Sam gives a lopsided smile and one large shoulder a shrug. He had to, just to make sure.
“Jeez, Cas,” Sam says with an exhale and takes just a few strides before he’s wrapping his arms around him. Castiel makes sure to heal his hand before returning the embrace, giving back a quick squeeze. Sam pats Castiel’s back and parts from him, grinning as he puts Castiel at arm's length. The edges of his eyes are wet with tears. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Cas,” Sam says and swallows hard, blinking away the water from his eyes as he puts himself back together.
“How long has it been?” Castiel asks and he can visibly see the droop in Sam’s shoulders at the question.
“It’s been months. And, Dean, he-,”
“Is he okay?” Cas interrupts and Sam looks like he's about to nod before shaking his head. Cas swallows and a touch of fear starts to boil in his guts. Would Jack have really brought him back just for Dean to be gone? What would he even do, then?
“He’s… Alive,” Sam says slowly, bringing Castiel back from his wandering mind. “He’s been an absolute mess since you,” Sam trails off and Castiel deadpans, “Since I died.” Sam nods to him and Castiel squints back, confused. “You won. Dean should be happy.”
Sam blinks and opens his mouth to say something but decides against it and closes back up as he thinks. “Well, you can ask him yourself how he is. Lord knows I've tried. You know him, it’s all ‘I’m fine I’m fine.’ He’s currently passed out on the map table.” Sam sighs but smiles softly after a moment and pats Cas on the arm. “It is really good to see you, man. I need to go, but I'll be back later tonight, okay? I’ll bring food.”
Castiel nods and takes a few steps back to let Sam get into the Impala. The grumbling roar of the engine is all too familiar and settles deep, warming Cas in the familiarity of it. It spreads through him down to the tips of his fingers as he watches Sam drive away.
When the taillights are gone from view he turns his attention to the bunker.
To home.
To Dean.
And however Dean wants him, he will be.
_~_~_~
It would be easy to skip the stairs and fly down, but something in Castiel wants to descend as he does normally. Like a human.
His shoes echo out into the vastness of the bunker as he walks, a good alert to anyone that was home to a guest (or intruder). The bunker holds the same mustiness he remembers of the underground building, the air is chilly and its old lights are still glowing warmly.
Nerves start to flutter in Castiel’s chest the more he goes inside. He doesn’t know how Dean will react once he sees him and there’s a small part of him that wants to just turn back around. Maybe go to Heaven and help Jack rebuild everything Chuck laid to waste. Simply place his pent-up desires back into a box, lock it up, and throw the key into the ocean once and for all.
He’s tried that so many times before though. He’s tried to distance himself more times than he can count. He’s saved Dean and has run away to protect Dean but somehow the universe always shoves them back together. Half the time that force was Dean himself, even when Dean was at his angriest, he always made sure he was okay. And this was not Chuck’s doing. These were not scenes in the gigantic sitcom that was Chuck’s very own design. Because out of all of the universes, this one time, Castiel had fallen for Dean the first time his grace had touched him in the pit, even if it took time for that love to blossom, for him to realize what it was. His love for Dean was the thing that broke everything and set everything right again.
Wherever Dean goes, he will follow, no matter how Dean wants him.
As soon as Castiel sees Dean, every thought of running away vanishes. Dean is exactly where Sam said he’d be. His head is pillowed by his arms on the map table and he looks much the same as when Castiel had last seen him. His shirt is a cool gray with a green patterned flannel, jeans so worn they’re practically more comfortable than sweatpants, and his hair is cut in that usual Dean way, maybe even a tad longer now. Castiel’s fingers twitch, wanting to know what it would feel like to card his fingers through the brown locks.
Seeing him, finally seeing him, whole, alive, and here makes Castiel want to fall right to his knees. Give Dean the world and more. His apologies, his wings, anything. He would give Dean anything. He will give Dean that. Him, his grace, everything.
Dean is surrounded by a family of empty bottles and opened books. There’s Beer, vodka, and wine, and Castiel hopes Dean didn’t drink this all in the span of the morning as he inspects one of the labels. He gently sets the bottle back down and looks closer at Dean. He watches the way his body gently rises and falls to the rhythm of his breathing, and Dean looks peaceful in his slumber. A dusting of pink sits across the bridge of his nose from the alcohol, his long eyelashes caress the freckles on his cheeks, and Cas wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each dot.
Tentatively Castiel speaks. “Dean?” he says aloud and Dean twitches immediately at the sound of his voice. Castiel can see Dean’s eyes move back and forth behind his closed eyelids, deep inside a dream. “Dean,” Castiel says again and there’s another almost violent twitch on Dean’s part. His brow furrows and as he clenches his eyes a tear falls from the corner, streaking his flushed cheek. He mumbles something incoherent and Castiel’s frown deepens.
He doesn't want Dean to be experiencing a nightmare, and wonders how much sleep he’s been getting, not that Dean ever really slept much anyway. Reaching out, Castiel gently presses two fingers to Dean’s forehead. As Castiel closes his eyes he gathers his grace and reaches into Dean’s mind.
Castiel opens his eyes to the basement of the Bunker. It’s the exact spot where he had last seen Dean. Where he had made his confession. He had been so happy upon doing so that the Empty sealed their deal and swallowed him whole, saving Dean in the process. Saving them all.
Dean is sitting back against the wall with knees up and face buried in his hands, hands clutching his hair. His shoulders shake with quiet sobs, and Castiel is immediately kneeling by his side.
“Dean, Dean you’re just dreaming,” Castiel tells him and Dean’s head springs up to look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and wet, his face flushed red and his cheeks are stained with tears.
After a long beat of silence, Dean says, “This is new.” He sniffs and Castiel reaches out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder. He can feel Dean tense under his hand and tries not to think why.
“You’re dreaming,” Castiel says, but Dean can’t seem to muster up any words or movements. Castiel looks clearer to him than in any other dream he’s had before. He can feel the hand on his shoulder grip him tighter and he half wonders what the heck was in that last drink.
“Why are you torturing me, man?” Dean breaks, sucking in a breath and Castiel’s eyes widen.
“I would never do that to you, Dean,” Castiel says with urgency. “You need to just wake up.” Dean shakes his head and buries his face back into his hands.
“He’s not here,” Dean mumbles to himself, his voice wet, “He’s gone. You’re gone. You died and you’re not coming back, because of me. I fucked up so hard. I pushed you away.”
Castiel’s throat tightens at his words. “No, Dean, no, don't blame yourself.”
Dean, wake up
Please wake up
I’m here Dean, wake up
Dean!
Dean starts and jerks heavily away from Castiel’s touch. Every instinct in him turns the alerts in his brain to a five-alarm fire and the chair falls heavily back as he stands. The blood rushes from his head and he sways, reaching out for the table as the room spins.
“Dean!”
That voice. Again that voice. His voice . It’s clear and deep and right in front of him and it sobers Dean up enough to finally look up.
Castiel is looking at him, bright-eyed and worried, lips slightly parted and for a moment Dean has to keep himself from launching right at him. To punch him. Kiss him? Maybe both, he’s not so sure, but first thing first he has to make sure it is Cas and not his imagination. Maybe there was something else in those drinks.
As Dean’s eyes start to clear Castiel relaxes slightly. “Hello, Dean,” he says and Dean practically shutters at the words. His heart picks up in his chest with excitement and it is him . It’s Castiel, his Cas, his Angel. He would know it instantly if it wasn’t.
Dean’s lips are chapped and his mouth feels like cotton but he manages to ask, “What was the last thing you said to me?” And Castiel slowly blinks at him. Did Dean not hear him before? He knows what words Dean means, but he isn’t sure he can speak them again. Not after what happened last time he said those words out loud, and he had figured he wouldn’t need to. Once was enough. Just being this close to Dean was enough.
…Right?
Castiel licks his bottom lip and Dean catches it, green eyes on his mouth before flicking back up to his eyes. “I-,” Cas starts to say but can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Dean takes a step closer, his eyes dipping into anger. The hazel in them is blazing, surrounding the circle of green like a forest about to be engulfed in flames and Castiel can’t help but just stare back as he gets lost in them. His own eyes are as bright as the day Dean first saw him. As blue as the lighting strikes that surrounded that wooden barn where an Angel of the Lord proclaimed he had risen Dean from Hell.
Dean’s jaw clenches and he stands his ground. “Say it again,” he says because he needs to know if what Cas said before was true and real and not something his mind made up. He's done that before, and the truth hurt more than what he made himself believe. He doesn't want this time to hurt but braces himself for it all the same. Because really, when is he ever allowed to be happy?
There’s electricity in the air between them and if something doesn’t happen soon, Castiel knows it will snap, so with a slightly shaky voice he says, “I love you, Dean.” And both are as still as statues, neither risking any movement as they wait what feels like hours for something to happen, and when nothing does, when the walls don't ooze and the world is calm Castiel takes another breath and happily says again, “Dean, I love you.” And it feels so good to say.
Dean releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and blinks rapidly to rid himself of the tears that are threatening to fall. “You don’t need to say anything, Dean, I-” and Dean is rushing him. He barrels into Cas with a hug so tight that Cas has to steady them both before he can reciprocate. He wraps his arms back around Dean, and this hug is different from the one he had with Sam. It’s longing. Intense. intimate .
Dean grips at Cas’ coat and Castiel clutches him back just as hard as Dean buries himself into him, face right into the crook of his neck, and Castiel thinks he can feel the drip of wet tears on his skin.
“Me too, Cas,” Dean mumbles into him and Dean’s shoulders seem to relax from a burden he’s kept inside him for far too long.
“Dean?” Castiel questions and Dean forces himself to pull away, tearing himself back from the safety of Castiel’s embrace to be able to look at him. He’s repeated this so many times in his dreams. Said it in prayer every morning, every night, and every hour since Castiel was taken. His eyes swell with fresh tears but these for once are not ones borne from despair.
Dean takes a deep breath and smoothes the lapels of Castiel’s coat to distract himself. “After you were gone, Cas, I was able to finally just sit and think. About us. About…me. I was so stupid, Cas.” Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head before looking down at the floor, not able to look into Castiel’s ever-present gaze. Dean licks his lips and swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to turtle this sailboat into the waves of his emotions. He needs to tip and fall in before it’s too late again. It’s been far too late. Twelve fucking years too late.
Dean’s voice is barely above a whisper but Cas can hear it all the same. “I love you too, Cas. I always have.” Dean looks back up because he can’t part from Castiel’s gaze for long, and Castiel’s smile is wide and bright. Dean half wonders if it blinds him because his face is hurting now, but maybe that’s just because he can’t stop smiling either. There are tears in Castiel’s eyes, and oh how that hurts. It crushes Dean’s heart like a bear trap because the last time Castiel had cried like this was just before the Empty took him away.
Dean moves his hands to cradle Castiel’s face and he wipes Castiel’s tears away with swipes of his thumbs. “I love you, Cas,” Dean repeats and Castiel nods as best he can. “Don’t ever do something so stupid again you hear me?” Dean’s voice cracks but Castiel’s eyes narrow as they do when he’s contemplating something. He can’t promise something he knows he will break time and time again.
“Saving each other, Dean. It’s what we do,” Castiel says and Dean has to use every ounce of his strength not to roll his eyes into the ceiling.
Dean lowers his hands and says, “Did you seriously just say that?” And Castiel’s head tilts in that adorable way he does when confused. Dean shakes his head and says, “No, no, I’m done with that shit you understand me? You’ve sacrificed yourself for me more times than I can count. Way before I even knew, before we even knew-
Dean’s anger breaks and he has to look down to avoid Castiel’s gaze. He stares at the blue of his tie, trying to find the words, this is all so new for him, spraying these emotions out into the open but he knows he has to try. He has to start changing.
“You don't understand, Cas,” Dean says, “You can’t save my life if you take my life with you.” A few long beats go by before Dean looks back up. He grips Castiel again and roughly shakes him. “Do you understand me?” Dean’s voice is low in anger and Castiel searches Dean’s face to try and find the answer. Dean always resorts to anger as a defense mechanism. It’s what he knows, it's what he’s used to, but Castiel can tell that he’s trying. He’s trying to explain himself but Cas isn’t sure he understands quite yet.
“I…”
“ You are my life, Cas,” Dean continues and gestures to the bottles dotting the table. “It’s been an absolute bitch living without you. Especially after what you told me. Sam and I have been trying to find a way to get you back for months. ”
“Oh,” Castiel breathes out and Dean’s hands start to tremble.
“Do you understand?” Dean asks again and this time Castiel slowly nods.
“You can’t do the same then,” Castiel says firmly and this time it’s Dean who looks at him confused. “You can’t sacrifice yourself either , Dean. You have a track record of doing that for the ones you love too.”
“Like hell I can’t,” Dean huffs, and instead of Castiel retaliating with more argument he smiles . It’s just the slight tug upward of his lip, small and soft but Dean knows a Cas smile when he sees one.
“I know,” Castiel says softly and takes a small step closer, even though he was already uncomfortably close. Dean’s nerves scream to lean into him, to press his lips to this Angel and let him know how he really feels about him, but he also wonders if he should wait. If they should take this slow. This is brand new territory for him, for both of them.
But they have been taking it slow. Way too long of taking it slow.
No, no, he needs to do this now , and before Dean’s brain decides to overthink he grabs onto Cas’ tie and pulls him in. Their lips meet in a crash that’s all teeth and fire seems to ignite within him, engulfing them both at the first contact. If kissing an Angel gets him sent back to Hell he doesn’t mind one fucking bit. He’ll rule that forsaken place by Rowena’s side. Castiel’s lips are nothing like he imagined kissing a man would be. They’re soft, plush, and Dean finds he absolutely wants to kiss him again. Kiss Cas again.
Castiel pushes forward into the kiss and it moves Dean backward into the table, making the bottles rattle. Dean gasps at the sudden contact to his back and Cas takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past Dean’s lips. Dean all but groans and pushes his tongue back against Cas’, not caring about the saliva currently dripping from the corner of his mouth as they experiment mapping out each other’s mouths. Out of all the daydreams he’s thought of, Dean never thought their first kiss would be this good, like the rush of a new drug slipping through his veins.
Dean presses his body against Castiel’s, hands gripping the lapels of his coat to keep him there, and sucks at Cas’ bottom lip. Castiel’s hands move to find a home on Dean’s waist, fingers digging into him as he nips Dean’s lip in return.
When his lungs start to ache and he needs to take a breath, Dean pulls back, and a new type of dizziness makes the room spin again. Their lips are swollen, red, and Castiel can see the inspiration the Greeks had for their marble statues as he looks at Dean. His face is flushed, green eyes bright, and the freckles that dot his cheeks are as beautiful as the constellations Castiel helped place in the sky, his jaw is as sharp as the blade he carves out from his grace.
“Cas,” Dean breathes when he thinks he might just pass out, and before he can say anything else he’s being gripped at the back of his thighs and moved. Castiel sits Dean on the table effortlessly, and Dean gasps at the abruptness of it, at the strength that Castiel possesses. Dean swears in response, and his heart hammers as he realizes he likes being handled by Cas like this. Since he’s finally being honest with himself about how Castiel makes him feel, Dean knows he’s always liked it.
“You were about to pass out. You needed to sit,” Castiel deadpans and Dean rubs a hand down his face. “Are you okay?” Cas asks sincerely and Dean huffs.
“No! Yes? You just came back from the fucking dead, Cas, It’s a lot to take in. You were dead and I…” Dean has to take a moment to breathe. He can feel the beat of his heart pounding in his chest and he can’t stop the tremble that rocks his body. There’s a new throbbing behind his eyes and his stomach feels like it’s full of bees. He’s not sure what’s happening to him.
It might just be the alcohol.
Dean grips at Castiel’s forearms, fearing in the back of his mind that he’d float away again if he doesn't keep his eyes or hands on him at all times, and admits, “I’m also fucking hungover as shit, man.”
Castiel stares at him for a moment before slowly leaning forward until their foreheads touch, and Dean lets out a slow breath, relaxing instantly at the contact. “Fuck, you’re warm,” Dean murmurs, and Castiel hums.
“I have my grace back,” he replies and Dean eyes him as best he can without moving away. Castiel then pulls back slightly and raises a hand to gently cradle Dean’s face. Dean glances at his hand before looking back to Cas. His hand is warm and Dean can feel when Castiel focuses his grace. He can see the bright white out of the corner of his eye, shimmering under Cas’ palm as his grace heals. The pounding in his head dims and the frantic buzzing in his stomach fades to more of a flutter of wings. He missed being healed by Cas’ hands.
Castiel’s hand drops from Dean’s face and rests on his shoulder, covering the exact place where his hand branded Dean so long ago. The kiss they shared is lingering on their lips and Dean wonders if another kiss would feel just as good as their first was.
“Dean,” Castiel says softly, and fuck, Dean doesn't ever want Castiel to stop saying his name.
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean’s voice is just as soft.
“May I kiss you again?” At first, Dean isn’t able to reply. He’s in awe that Castiel asked, so used to simply leaning over to kiss his partner when he feels the time is right, but of course, he would ask. Because this is Castiel, and he’s new to this kind of love. He loves Dean, and he doesn’t want to scare him or move at a pace that’s too fast.
Dean gives a slow nod and says, “Yeah. Yeah, Cas, kiss me again. Anytime you want.” As Castiel shifts closer their noses brush and Dean meets him in the middle, pushing forward and kissing Castiel deep. He pushes off of the table as he throws his arms around Cas’ neck, and Castiel’s lips are so soft... Dean wants to ravish them with his teeth.
With feet flat on the floor again Dean moves forward, making Castiel start to walk backward. They walk and kiss until they’ve hit a wall and Castiel grunts at the contact to his back. Dean chuckles, the sound deep and it rattles Castiel to his core. Dean trails his lips over Cas’ neck before he finds a spot to press down and suck on and Cas groans, pressing his hips forward before he can stop himself. Dean doesn't back away, letting his instincts take control and he grinds his hips forward.
Dean nips at Castiel’s neck, drawing up the blood under his skin, wanting to brand him with his teeth and prove to the world that yes , this divine being is his.
The fire he felt before is back, engulfing Dean in a wave of heat that makes the tightness of his jeans start to hurt and he wants his clothes off now. He wants, no, needs to prove to Cas that this is what he wants. That Cas is what he wants. For now and always.
Dean finally pulls back and brings Cas with him as he walks in reverse towards the door that leads to the hallway. Castiel’s eyes don't leave him as they move together, and Dean swears he can see a spark of Cas’s grace shine in the back of his eyes, a quick flash of blue-white across the iris. It distracts him as Dean wonders just how much Cas holds back when it comes to him.
Dean forgets about the small step in the doorway and the back of his heel hits it making him trip over his feet. He reaches out and Castiel is right there, his reactions lightning quick. Cas wraps his arms around Dean and lifts his wings for flight and in an instant Dean’s head goes from just hitting the floor to being on his feet just outside his bedroom door. It ends with the sound of feathers ruffling in his ears.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asks just before Dean’s hands are pushing him into the bedroom with fervid. Dean slips the trenchcoat off of Castiel’s shoulders and Cas lets it fall to the floor, too enamored by Dean to stop him, and Dean works next to take off the suit jacket and loosen his tie. “Dean,” Castiel says and Dean knows it’s a warning, can tell by the slightly lower octave of Cas’ voice, and he chooses to ignore it as he works on the buttons of Castiel’s shirt.
“You need to wear something other than these damn suits,” Dean complains, only getting to the third button before Castiel stops him by grabbing his wrists. Dean looks up to meet his eyes and Cas lowers their hands.
“Are you sure, Dean?” Castiel asks and Dean responds with a soft sigh.
“Cas,” Dean says and pulls his hands away from Cas’ grip so he can hold his face instead. Dean’s thumbs brush just under those striking blue eyes. “I’ll tell ya if we need to stop, okay?” And Cas has to close his eyes briefly, needing a rest from the heat of Dean’s gaze.
“Okay,” Cas responds and opens his eyes to look at Dean again. “Promise? Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once we….” Cas trails off and Dean smiles, giving a slight shake of his head. He admits to himself that he wouldn’t mind witnessing that, to Castiel thoroughly devouring him until there’s nothing left but the weight of his soul.
Cas doesn't need to know that... yet.
“C’ourse you will, Cas. You’ll stop if I need you to. I trust you.” And Dean leans forward to kiss him again. The feel of Castiel’s lips against his own is becoming addicting and Dean wants to know what else he’ll get addicted to once he tries them with Cas. Dean works at the rest of the buttons on Cas’ shirt as they kiss before pulling back and pushing Cas to the bed.
Cas sits with a soft, “Oof,” and bounces slightly with the mattress, his shirt now open wide. “We’ll go through this together, Cas, like we always do,” Dean remarks as he shucks off his outer layer and tugs his shirt over his head. Castiel watches him with heated eyes as he drops his own white shirt to the ground.
He looks up at Dean as if he was kneeling at the altar of Winchester, and lays his hands on Dean’s waist. With Dean’s shirt gone Castiel moves his gaze over Dean’s body as if he was a polaroid, burning the image into his mind. Dean smirks and grips Castiel’s chin to tilt his head up, making Cas meet his eyes.
“We’ve got time, sunshine,” Dean says and for once he’s right. They do have time. They have time to learn and adapt, water themselves with each other, and grow with the sun. There are no more apocalypses. No more doomsday clocks ticking away on their phones. They can just live . They can just be .
Castiel’s breath hitches when he takes the next breath in and what a human thing to do. He can feel the heart in his chest beat faster and the blood rushing through his skin, warming him like his own grace cannot. He might be an Angel, but a human he loves, and a human he wants to be.
His grace belongs to Dean. It always has.
Dean kicks off his boots and prowls over him and Cas knows enough to shift back onto the bed until his head hits the pillows. Dean swings his leg over Castiel and straddles him, splaying his hands over Castiel’s chest, the hair there coarse under his palms, so different from the soft skin of a female that he’s used to. It’s new. It’s exhilarating. He soothes his hands up, learning the curves and bumps of each muscle beneath his calloused hands, and Castiel arches up into the touch.
Leaning forward Dean starts to pepper Castiel with gentle kisses. He trails them over his collarbone to his neck and Castiel tilts his head to offer more of him. As Dean gently bites down Cas notices something beneath the pillow next to him. Briefly distracted he reaches for it and pulls it out to see what it is.
It’s one of Dean's light jackets, the green one he had on that day, the day the Empty took Castiel, and there is a bloody-black handprint stained on the shoulder.
Dean notices that Cas is somewhere else and looks up to see what was wrong. It takes him a moment before he can speak, and he has to clear his throat. “It’s about all I had left of you,” he says and Cas snaps his attention back up at Dean. He looks small and vulnerable even when towering over him. This strong hunter of his. This soldier. This brave soul has sacrificed more than any other he has ever known in all of his existence. He has spit into the faces of archangels, of Death, of God himself, and the evaporation of one fallen angel is what breaks him.
“Oh, Dean,” Cas murmurs before he shifts their weights, pushing Dean down onto his back. Dean goes willingly, flops down, and looks up at Cas with glossy eyes. “I’m here, Dean,” Castiel says and holds Dean’s face between his large hands. Dean closes his eyes and wraps his fingers around Castiel’s wrists, letting himself revel in the safety between Castiel’s strong hands.
“I know,” Dean breathes out and when he opens his eyes again there’s a plea in the depths of green, screaming out to the sky above him. “Stay, Cas. Stay with me. I’ve always wanted you to stay,” He confesses, voice breaking.
“I will, Dean,” Castiel promises and Dean nods his head.
“Go on, Cas,” Dean says and slowly lowers his arms to free Castiel’s hands. There’s that small smile again on Castiel’s lips and love in his eyes as he leans forward to give Dean another kiss.
There’s something different about this, Dean realizes, as Castiel begins exploring his chest with his own hands. This isn’t like what he’s used to. This loving touch. The way Castiel’s breath leaves goosebumps on his skin, to the delight he feels when he can tell Cas is smiling. In the past having sex was just a means to an end. To, for just a moment, forget about the horrors of the world. To carve out one small moment in time with someone else before moving on to the next crisis.
He wants Castiel to consume him whole. To break him apart and piece him back together, and he knows Castiel can because he has before. He wants to bury himself in the protection of Castiel’s ribs and live behind the safety of his heart. He could fracture Dean so easily, with just a snap of his fingers, yet his touch is gentle, and presses down just enough for Dean to feel grounded as his hands soothe over his flushed body.
Dean bends his knees and spreads his legs as best he can to give Cas more room, as much as he can with his jeans still on. It’s an invitation to come closer and Cas takes it, hips grinding down against the tent in Dean’s jeans. “I’m here, Dean,” he repeats against Dean’s lips and Dean chases him, moving his head up to try and capture Castiel’s lips with his and he realizes he’s never felt so desperate in his life. Like a lovesick teenager or a dog begging for a bone.
“Cas,” Dean practically begs when Cas doesn’t reciprocate right away. “Please.”
“What do you need, Dean?” Castiel asks, his voice deep, and laced with a gentleness that Dean might never get used to. Dean almost whines. Almost. The sound that comes out is more of a growl. “Tell me what you need, Dean,” Castiel says with a more demanding tone and Dean traps an outright moan from leaving his throat.
“I-I need you, Cas, n’ I need all of these damn clothes off now .” Dean sticks his hands down between them and starts working at Castiel’s belt, the metal clanking as he unclasps it. In turn, Castiel works the button and zipper of Dean’s jeans. It’s a little awkward as they try to do it at the same time, and eventually Dean bats Castiel’s hands away to do it himself. Cas shifts off of Dean so he can kick out of his shoes and slip out of the pants. With the extra room, Dean lifts his hips so he can shove off his lower garments.
Not able to bear the separation long, Dean grabs Castiel by the waist as soon as he’s shucked away his clothing and pulls Cas back into his lap. Castiel is like a weighted blanket, covering Dean, shielding him, protecting him, loving him.
Dean shudders as he feels Castiel against his thigh, already erect and hard with arousal, and definitely not used to having a dick foreign to his own on him. Skin-to-skin contact during sex is not new for Dean, but this feels new because it’s Cas. And he knows when this ends it won't be the last time, it won’t be the end, because when he wakes in the morning Castiel will still be there.
Dean lifts his hips to find him and when he does Castiel grinds back down, each man letting out a soft moan. The noise of pleasure that comes from Dean is beautiful, ricocheting in Castiel’s mind like a pinball gone haywire and he wants to hear it again, grinds down harder, movements long and smooth as he rocks his hips forward and he’s rewarded with another moan from the man underneath him.
Castiel’s lips find Dean’s before he noses his way to Dean’s jaw, lips caressing his skin. Dean soothes his hands down Castiel’s sides until they reach the firmness of Castiel’s ass and he squeezes. Castiel isn’t soft and round. He’s strong and firm, and Dean finds it just as sexy, if not more because he’s in love with this particular ass.
When Castiel’s length finds him Dean throws his head back against the pillows with a gasp. Cas is hard and hot, smooth, and he can feel himself bead with wetness, twitching with pleasure. “Keep going, Cas,” Dean encourages, nails biting into Cas’ skin as he finally looks down between them, soaking in the sight of how they slide together.
“Dean,” Cas moans against his neck, repeating his name like a prayer and Dean receives it like a God on high. He moves his hands up Castiel’s back to wrap them around his shoulders and lifts his legs to frame his hips, Castiel’s continuous rocking sending sparks of electricity up his spine. He’s pretty sure he can come by just this, skin sliding against skin, held safe in the arms of the Angel that has always been watching over him.
Castiel digs his arms underneath Dean’s back, fingers pressing into his shoulder blades as he squeezes him close. He can feel every tremble Dean makes, hear every noise from the lips against his ear, and if this was true blaspheme he never wants to go back. Dean’s nails dig into Castiel’s back as his hips get more erratic and lava-like heat pools low in his stomach.
“Nng, Cas,” Dean moans, breathing heavy, as bright white heat starts to rise up from the lava in his stomach. Castiel moves his right hand to Dean’s shoulder and holds tight down on the spot he burned Dean all those years ago, and it’s enough to send Dean right over the edge.
Cas lifts his head, and is so glad he did as Dean starts to come. Dean’s head is thrown back, eyes rolled up and mouth opened wide to let out the prettiest sounds Castiel has ever heard. His seed paints his chest with each convolution that Cas can feel intimately, and the spray almost hits Dean’s chin. Dean sucks in a breath and closes his eyes tight, the intensity of his orgasm and the swell of emotions churning in his stomach coming out as tears spilling from the edges of his eyes, wetting his lashes and glazing the freckles on his cheeks.
Castiel continues rocking his hips as best he can to ride out Dean’s orgasm, but they falter when his own hits him just hard. He moans loud and has to close his eyes tight as his grace starts to burn hot behind his eyelids, igniting a flame that bursts and expands, adding to the mess on Dean’s chest. He can hear Dean say his name and moves his hands to cradle Dean’s face, resting his forehead on Dean’s as he starts to fall from the high. The lights in the room pop, the room shakes for a moment and there’s a rush of wind against his face but Dean doesn’t care if there’s an all-out sinkhole under him.
At the moment Dean feels so complete, so safe between Castiel’s hands, and relaxes like he never has before under the pressure of Castiel’s body. Something in his soul he hadn’t realized was empty starts to fill gold. Nothing else in the world matters in this small bubble of time except for Cas. Him and Cas. The world around them was forgotten. Tears he can’t hold back spill from the corners of his eyes.
Cas looks at Dean when he feels tears drip onto his hands, and as Dean quietly cries, he moves to cradle the back of Dean’s head instead so he can kiss them away. He kisses Dean’s nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, and his forehead, repeating the words, “I love you,” between them until Dean has finally calmed.
When Cas leans back, Dean is looking at him with reverence. He’s not looking at him, but behind him, greeted by the sight of large dark wings that protrude from Castiel’s back. His hands, still wrapped around Cas’s shoulders, are just above where they split from Cas’s skin. The main wings are curved in, guarding, as they block out the world, and Dean swears he can see the feathers shimmer with a galaxy of rainbows as they move.
“Holy shit,” Dean swears and Castiel has enough sense to lean back and see what Dean is looking at. Glancing over his shoulder he can see them too. He could always see them of course, they’re a part of him, and he knows they’re there, but this time they’re in this plane of existence. He’s not cloaking them. They aren't just shadows and tricks of light, his wings are here, and real.
Tentatively, Dean reaches as he asks, “May I?” Castiel nods and lowers his hands from Dean’s face, putting them back on the bed. Dean’s hand gently presses onto the wing and pets out, following the flow of the feathers. Cas shivers, the sensation new, not used to having his wings touched. The feathers quiver, which brings a smile to Dean’s face. “They’re beautiful, Cas,” Dean says, which brings a new flush up to Castiel’s cheeks.
“Thank you,” he replies. “You are too.”
Dean blinks and focuses back on Cas. He chuckles softly and leans up to give Castiel a kiss, adoring the fact that he just can now, whenever he wants. Cas immediately responds, returning the kiss, and as he drags his tongue along Dean’s lower lip he starts to feel the mess they made starting to dry. He pulls back slowly and murmurs, “We should probably clean up.”
“What, you can’t snap it away with your fingers?” Dean teases, not pulling back but Cas just gives him a blank stare.
“That is not how my grace works,” Castiel deadpans and Dean grins and starts to laugh, and boy doesn’t that feel good, as it sends all the happy chemicals right into his brain.
“Fuck, man, it’s good to have you back,” Dean says, and Castiel’s slightly confused face turns into a soft smile. He pecks Dean’s smile with a quick kiss before detangling from him and getting off the bed. Their skin sticks and Dean grimaces. Maybe cleaning up is a good idea.
“I’ll be right back,” Cas says as he slips off the bed, and it takes Dean a good minute before he realizes that thing in his throat is panic. What if Cas didn’t come back? As Cas reaches the bathroom Dean shows up in the doorway, making his way inside. Cas’s wings are gone, but he can almost sense they’re still there, taking up most of the bathroom.
Castiel looks at Dean with questions but Dean doesn’t respond as he grabs a hand towel, wets it, and cleans off his chest. Cas stares, unable to look away. “I was going to bring you one,” he says and Dean shrugs in response.
“This is quicker,” he says and hands the towel over to Cas who takes it and starts to clean himself. As he does he can't help but notice the redness in Dean’s eyes. The droop in the skin under them, and the darkness around them.
“You’re tired,” he says and Dean looks up from where he was staring, which happened to be Castiel’s own chest. He’s about to deny it, but knowing how well Castiel knows him it would be moot.
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”
“You should sleep,” Castiel says as he drops the towel into the small bathroom hamper. Dean huffs and crosses his arms.
“Absolutely not. I’m not sleeping when you just got back.” Castiel’s brows furrow and his head tilts just so, not quite understanding but trying to.
“Then… I’ll stay with you,” he says and Dean brightens a bit at this. He reaches out for Castiel’s hand who grips back tightly. Dean then leads Cas back to his bedroom, back to the bed, and lets go of his hand so they can crawl back under the covers.
Castiel lies down on his back, expecting Dean to just curl up on the other side, but instead, Dean slips in next to him. He rests his cheek on Cas’s chest, ear right above his heart. Cas hesitates before wrapping his arm around Dean’s frame.
“This won't be easy, Cas,” Dean remarks as he stares at his gray walls. “I won't be magically good at all this.”
“If you’re talking about sex, It was good,” Castiel replies and Dean lightly smacks Castiel’s side.
“I’m a sex god and y’know it. But that’s not what I'm talking about.”
“I know, Dean,” Cas says, “It's okay. We’ll wade through it as we’ve always had. Together.” And that seems to be just what Dean needed to hear in order to relax again. It won't be easy, and it will be a long journey, but they finally got here, and they can make it through whatever other obstacles land on their track.
Castiel is warm under his cheek, like a personal heater, and Dean enjoys the patterned rhythm of his breathing. “I have a question,” Dean says, voice quiet as he continues to stare at the wall, and Cas responds with a ‘hm?.’ “How did you find me in hell? You said once there was a whole garrison of Angels that came for me. How were you the one that was able to find me?”
Castiel’s fingers gently card through Dean’s hair as he thinks, petting back the short strands, excited to find that it’s soft. He speaks sincerely as he says, “Your soul was the brightest.”
“Is it…still?” Dean asks, voice quiet, and his eyes flutter at the attention Cas is giving to his scalp.
“It never faded, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly, and Dean responds with a soft chuckle.
“Sap.”
Cas almost responds with something about how sap comes from trees, and that he can’t be sap, but says instead, “I remember holding your soul to me as I raised you. I made sure not a hair of you was left behind.”
Dean wonders if this is why he’s always felt safe when Cas was near. This huge cosmic entity safely carried him out from the depths of the pit, and continued that promise far afterward. Watching over him, and does his best to keep him safe. He’s never felt worthy of it, and will probably always struggle with the notion that Cas loves him for all he is. Flaws and all. “I…remember. I think,” Dean says. “It’s mostly a blur. I blocked it out. But there was fluttering of wings. Thousands of them.”
“I only have six. You probably heard my brothers’ and sisters’ wings.”
“Uh huh. Anyway, you won't get bored as I sleep, will you?” As Dean yawns his jaw cracks. “I know you don’t sleep or whatever.”
It takes Castiel a while before responding, wondering if he should bring this up now or later, but he can feel Dean fighting to stay awake because he hasn’t responded yet. “About that… About my grace.”
“What about your grace?”
“I want you to have it. We can put it in a bottle. I don't need it”
Dean groans and rubs his face into Cas’s chest. “Dude, let’s not deal with the heavy stuff for a while alright? Lemme sleep first.”
“Of course. I’ll be okay, I have many memories I can think of while you sleep.”
Dean shifts slightly to get more comfortable and tangles his legs with Cas’. “What would you be thinking of?” Dean asks, continuing to talk even though his eyes are heavy and he can feel himself start to drift.
“You. All of my happiest memories are of you, Dean.” And Cas can feel Dean’s smile and mumble the word, “Sap,” again.
“I love you, Cas,” Dean says into his chest and Cas can feel the bloom of the brightest sunflower in his heart. The last words Dean hears before he falls asleep is the echo of Cas repeating the words back to him.
“I love you too, Dean. More than you might ever know. But I’ll try to show you how much I do, every day.”